


Ewan and Orlando, 6th February 1904

by kyuuketsukirui, msilverstar



Series: Sable Knot (Ewan) [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Don't Have to Know Canon, M/M, POV Alternating, RPG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-06
Updated: 2004-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-06 04:50:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyuuketsukirui/pseuds/kyuuketsukirui, https://archiveofourown.org/users/msilverstar/pseuds/msilverstar





	Ewan and Orlando, 6th February 1904

"Bloom!" Ewan calls out. The group stops and Ewan catches up to them easily enough. Ignoring the other boys, he lays his hand on Bloom's arm and says, "I've been looking for you. I thought you might... I mean, would you like to join me in my room? I thought we might have a game of chess."

Orlando goes still. That boy is far too bold in public. However, his father will be a very useful man to know and the boy himself is charmingly enthusiastic. "Neeson," he acknowledges the approach, and then louder, so they can all hear. "Chess is not just a game, it's far more than that." _If you knew a thing about it, you'd know a pawn should never approach a bishop_. "Have you studied it, do you know Brentano and Steinitz?"

"Of...of course," Ewan lies, making a note to have a look through the library for texts on chess. Not that it will do him any good, now, of course. "So what do you say?" he presses. "I got a package from home today. Petit fours and biscuits and some chocolates."

Orlando forgets what a neophyte Ewan is. He has no couth at all; how could his father have let it happen? He turns the boy around and holds his shoulders back, displaying him to the group. "Here we have, gentlemen, a perfect specimen of the English schoolboy. Ewan Neeson, at your service, if you understand me." He puts a little innuendo into the last, because it's easier to explain a gauche lover if everyone's had him.

Cheeks burning, Ewan jerks away, turns his back to the other boys and their laughter. "I say, don't be an arse, Bloom," he says sulkily. His mouth twists and he swallows back all the other things he wants to say. He should have known better than to approach Bloom when he was with his friends. "I only thought you might like a game."

That innocence is so much of Ewan's charm, but it can get overmuch. "A game with your arse," Orlando mutters, just loud enough for the boy to hear. "Perhaps later, my child," he proclaims, with a wave, "you have much to learn about tactics." Just the idea, though, of Ewan on his knees, opening his sweet mouth is delightful. Orlando feels himself hardening and smiles rakishly at Ewan.

"Later, then," Ewan breathes, his anger draining away quickly at that smile. He touches Orlando's arm again briefly and then, ignoring everyone else, makes his way back to his room.

He can't relax once he's there. Pulling his shoes off and stripping down to trousers and shirtsleeves, he settles down in one of the large armchairs to read, but finds himself staring at the same paragraph for what seems like forever. Holmes has never been this uninteresting! He gets up, sets out the wine and everything that arrived from Cook today. He digs his watch out of his waistcoat and checks the time. An hour. Sighing, he flops back down with his book.

Orlando finds himself being particularly biting and witty this evening, though he's careful to give due credit to Oscar Wilde. He's seen these fellows, like a pack of wolves, take against a man and make him a laughingstock for a perceived fault. It's like dancing on a tightrope to be with them, knowing he could fall any moment. When they plan a jape -- turning the crosses in the chapel upside down -- he peels off with a quip, head high. Even if his family hadn't made it a point of honor never to bring their people into disrepute, he quite likes the chapel, aesthetically, and doesn't want to damage it.

Ewan is so much simpler, it's like going from a Stravinsky concerto to an alluring Italian love song. But there's not a thing wrong with love songs, and Orlando hums a melody from Pagliacci. He swings into Ewan's rooms, smiling and pleased with himself, ready to ravish him for several hours.

When Ewan hears the door, he looks up from his book, a smile spreading across his face. It's tempting to jump up, throw himself at Bloom, but he forces himself to mark his page and set his book down before getting to his feet. "You came."

"I did," Orlando smiles at Ewan's efforts at self-control. He reaches out and draws the boy to him, cupping his hand behind Ewan's head and leaning down for a long, slow kiss. The boy is a lovely combination of strong body and soft compliance. Breaking off, he murmurs, "I trust you'll make it worth my while."

"I will." Twining his arms around Orlando's neck, Ewan presses close, kissing him again.

Orlando lets Ewan kiss him, eager and hot. He draws the boy in towards him and runs his hands up and down the willing body. "Time to address your mouth lower," he orders, and pushes down on Ewan's shoulders to confirm.

Ewan resists, knees locked. "Let's undress first, get comfortable..." His fingers trail over Bloom's buttons and he glances over towards the bedroom.

"Later, boy," Orlando puts on his most stern voice. "I'm quite comfortable right here." And he elaborately leans back against the table. "Carry on."

With a small frown, Ewan does as he's told, sinking to his knees between Orlando's spread legs. He runs his hands over Orlando's thighs, up to his belt, and by the time he's got it unbuckled and Orlando's trousers open, he's forgotten all about his earlier reluctance and his own prick is just as hard as the one he's wrapping his lips around.

Ewan's hot, eager mouth is perfect. It takes Orlando away from himself, from the college, from everything. He runs his hands through Ewan's hair, enjoying the texture on his palms, the shape and warmth of the head.

With a small moan, Ewan closes his eyes, cheeks hollowing around Orlando's cock. Countless times he's done this now and there's no longer that initial moment of surprise at the lack of foreskin. Now he knows what Orlando likes and what's going to get him the reaction he wants - like that, right now. Tongue pressed hard against the underside of the head and Orlando's fingers curl and twist in Ewan's hair. _Perfect._

"Yes, good boy." Ewan has learned well and Orlando can simply lean back and let him suck. But that's not what he's wanting, not after Ewan's faux pas outside. Orlando's fingers tighten on Ewan's head and he pushes, hard, feeling Ewan resist a little.

Ewan gags, choking as Orlando's prick slides back too far. No matter how many times Orlando tries to get him to do this, Ewan just can't seem to get the hang of it. He keeps sucking, working his tongue, the odd gag interrupting him every once in a while as Orlando tries again to push in farther.

Orlando wishes that Ewan would stop choking, it's quite distracting. He sighs and pulls back a bit, with a bit of a complacent smile, thinking that it could be the large size of his member. The few times he's sucked, it's not been so very difficult.

_That's better._ Ewan curls his hand around the spit-slick shaft, pumping as he sucks at the head. His other hand is still on Orlando's thigh, and he can feel the muscles tensing under the scratchy wool of his trousers. Eyes closed, he throws himself into pleasuring Orlando, using all the tricks he's been taught.

A wave of fondness for Ewan surprises Orlando, and he murmurs endearments to the boy, petting him, and closing his eyes to enjoy the active tongue and lips. He leans back against the table and thrusts just a little harder, feeling his own pleasure rising, then spilling with a burst into Ewan's eager mouth.

Ewan swallows, still sucking, and finally pulls back, licking the last drops from the slit. Grinning, he rocks back on his heels, surges to his feet and braces himself against the table, kissing Orlando demandingly.

Tasting his own seed in Ewan's mouth is a shock for Orlando; he's never done such a thing before. He groans a bit as he pulls Ewan's head forward and meets him tongue, lips, and all. "I'll bugger you later," he growls, reaching to cup the boy's arse firmly. Watching Ewan fidget and whimper is always entertaining. He'd best postpone the chess game til afterwards, though, as the boy will be even more scattered than his usual self.

Secretly relieved that Orlando's not going to leave, Ewan pulls back slightly, pouting. "Not too much later, I hope," he says, tucking Orlando's prick back into his pants and buttoning up his trousers. Fingers on the belt buckle, he leans in again, pressing his erection to Orlando's groin.

"Wine?" Orlando redirects him, hoping it's not some horrid plonk. He looks around Ewan's digs, "I like your new fabrics, not quite the _nouveau style_, but still, much better than the buff hunting things you had before."

"Huh? Oh..." Sighing, Ewan pulls back. It's obvious he's not going to get anywhere now. Yes, grand, isn't it?" He'd rather liked the previous decor, but he's not entirely displeased with the change. And Orlando likes it, which is what really matters, after all.

He finishes straightening Orlando's clothes and sets about pouring the wine and trying to ignore his erection. Handing one glass to Orlando, he flops down into a chair and stretches out.

Orlando eases down to the other chair and sips his wine. Acceptable _vin ordinaire_. He leans forward and strokes Ewan's chest, slips his hand down to Ewan's hard member. He murmurs, "We must take care of this before we can move on to chess," and starts stroking it firmly.


End file.
